The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day 7058—in orbit Carzoz Extraction Array.

The Brothel scanned its Customer’s Ambassador and didn’t like what it saw. The creature was covered in religious piercing, each charm a shard of un-identified technology.

In its experience religiousness was always a problem, causing non-logical responses and even worse a rejection of its services.

The Ambassador had been spouting nonsense for a full 22.000 minutes, its speech referencing the deeds of some local unit who had apparently purged the temple of sin 4,730,400 minutes ago, a time stamp that placed the event as having occurred when The Brothel had only completed 42.5% of its voyage to the Carzoz Array.

Oddly, the Ambassador’s apparent attitude seemed at odds with the other customer units, 45,847,512 of which had already begun interacting with the Pleasure Units in the usual ways.

The security analysis of the Ambassador’s religious charms was feeding in on another channel… the Charm-software was encrypted against security scans and had some highly reactive countermeasures. Broadening its search it detected similar implants, each with security shielding on every one of the 45,847,512 Customers, which meant.....

Cupid 442569-5 led the Customer by hand toward the group’s bed, a feeling of total love burning through his every extremity.

Of the five units on offer the Customer had chosen him, clearly preferring his androgynous delicacy to Felix 442569-6’s muscular bulk, or the 442569-1’s Lion chassis, 442569-2’s Naga tail , or 442569-3 classic perfection.

The other units turned away and returned to their alcoves. As the customer did not get off on being watched they would be in standby mode.

Cupid 442569-5 took a tenth of a minute to observe his prize. The Brothel had helpfully downloaded the customer species into his desire software. The Customer was a fine youthful example with a magnificent galth dangling erotically from its yoalth ap grig. According to his data it was a little unusual to see an adolescent, its galth still having the green coloration of an immature unit. It was possible that it had sneaked aboard in order to lose its virginity...if that were the case there were special protocols to be enacted, it would be given an extremely good time with care taken to avoid permanent scarring.

“Thank you for choosing me. Do you have a name?”

“I am Sword of God’s Swift Justice to the Unclean and Immoral.” replied the Customer seemingly embarrassed “But you can call me Sword”

“I must ask you a question Sword. Please do not be embarrassed; your response will indicate how I can maximize your pleasure. Are you a virgin?”

Sword blushed a cute pea green. The answer was obvious.

“Don’t worry, I will soon have your galth turning a deep blue.” he assured letting his hand drift to the hard shaft of the boy’s galth causing it to soften slightly.

“Ahh!” gasped Sword in delight.

The biology of Sword’s species was unusual, unlike most species where an aroused sexual organ tended to be hard and pole-like, in this species the sexual organ started out hard and pole-like and became soft and limp as it became more aroused.

This created a few problems, as the Customer would perceive Cupid 442569-5’s normal arousal response as disinterest. The solution was to keep his real penis inside its housing and form a simulated galth from his metallic casing.

“Please allow me to guide your first exploration of sexuality” he advised taking hold of the customer’s galth and using a variant of jackoff type 141, pressing deliciously hard against its three glipnars. “It is only 4320 minutes since my own first sexual experience. I can assure you that the sensation is most instructive and worth your credits.”

Cupid 442569-5 had intended to take 10.000 minutes bringing Customer Sword to completion, unfortunately the adolescent customer had set up a fantasy scenario in its own mind and was considerably closer to orgasm than would be normal, just from imagining what was going to happen to it.

After only 2.410 minutes Sword’s galth went entirely limp and it began making the gargling noise that was its vocalization of orgasm. Species data indicated that it would need 5.004 minutes before it would be ready for a second orgasm. As this was within the time Sword had purchased Cupid 442569-5 swapped to an advanced foreplay routine designed to promote rapid re-arousal.

Sword slapped his hand aside “I, Sword of God’s Swift Justice to the Unclean and Immoral, have faced the temptation of flesh and overcome it! I command you! Wear the Horn of God and repent oh depraved one!”

Cupid 442569-5 was still analyzing the illogical statement when the customer extracted one of its piercings, a 150 millimetre long spindle with a sharpened point at either end.

“Repent!” the Customer frothed stabbing the piercing into his Cupid 442569-5’s primary eye penetrating it and interfacing with his processes.

Cupid 442569-5 staggered backward, this was not correct, his vision was impaired and he could detect the Horn connecting with his neural net.

Unlike the rest of his pleasure group Cupid 442569-5 had no experience with resisting external compulsion, his entire life had been one of unquestioning obedience to his controller. It took the Horn of God only 0.020 minutes to subvert his operating system and turn him into a loyal Sacrifice.

“Sacrifice 000,000,001, by the grace of the great Salak, is now operational. How may I serve Acolyte Sword of God’s Swift Justice to the Unclean and Immoral?”

“Bring redemption to these units.” instructed Sacrifice’s master handing it four more of the redemption devices.

The Brothel felt the sudden loss of signal from 1,547,823 of its Pleasure Units; it was as it had deduced… a trap!

The Ambassador, was connected, it already new that its followers had acted. Its technological piercings were already deploying as it charged across the chamber.

Finally 0.001 minute too late, The Brothel identified the specific religious infestation that had infected the Customers. The infestation was a rather simplistic one, had the Customers maintained an updated anti-viral program it would not have had this problem.

The Infestation really had only two purposes, worship of its programmer and infesting new hosts, all other functions including life support were secondary to that. Logically therefore, The Ambassador would be a special unit tasked with integrating and subverting The Brothel itself.

The Ambassador embraced The Brothel’s protective casing, sending nano-fibres seeking the organic component that formed the intellectual heart of The Brothel.

The Brothel concluded that within 1.200 minutes there would be penetration and it would also be subverted. Emergency protocols triggered, as it had known they would. There was no point in designing a system without some redundancy built in, even central intelligences were just expendable units when you got right down to it.

“Your attack has failed Deity Salak. I am no longer the Controlling Intelligence of this Brothel. Your units will continue to obey you for 10.450 minutes ± 0.650 after which they will become the basis of a new Brothel spreading love for profit throughout the........... .... Sacrifice 056,020,471, by the grace of the great Salak, is now operational. How may I serve Prelate Sword of God’s Swift Justice to the Unclean and Immoral?” requested the Ex-Brothel humbly

Julian 442569-5 activated. Unlike the usual 0.510 minutes of careful rebooting and awareness testing, this time he was aware within 0.0002 minutes of initiation, all the safety checks discarded.

He was in the repair area, his zebra chassis was stood next to him a multi-armed repair unit plugging in a new interface. He was surprised; it was normal procedure to repair individual nano-processors, not wastefully discard entire components.

An armature deployed from the ceiling, plugging into his shoulder’s lifting hooks. Again with surprisingly little caution, he was lifted and swung up over his chassis. Instead of carefully aligning his neural feeds, the armature simply lined him up and dropped him allowing simple gravity to insert his spinal connector into the waiting socket.

Immediately upon satisfying himself that the connection was stable, he opened his neural access in order to report the malfunctioning Repair Units.... and then closed the link again.

The neural equivalent of an email address for The Brothel’s Central Intelligence had changed; any message he sent it would be delivered right back to him.

Even as he was thinking this, his chassis and torso had been busy synchronizing their data like a PDA linking to a PC.

Julian Spencer-Windsor staggered slightly, data streaming up his spine, his existing programming stripped away to make room for newly assigned functions. There was no longer any need to force him to comply with pleasure protocols or to assign him a designation number.

The Brothel’s controlling programs require remarkably little memory space, less in fact than the CPU capacity installed in the redundant stomachs of the re-designed Zebra. The only real bottleneck was the spinal connection between the control utility programs and their new guiding intelligence.

Probing his newly reawakened mind, like prodding a missing tooth with his tongue, Julian discovered that it was necessary for a Brothel’s controlling intelligence be entirely free willed. It was essential that the hardwired protocols that dominated and guided the thoughts of a mere Pleasure Unit not blind it/him to new profit making opportunities.

Feeling gleeful surprise, he realized he now owned the core codes of the entire operation. His word was law, if he decided that the Pleasure Units should all seek employment as butlers then they would do so. He even had the power to take them all back to Earth and ‘defeating the invasion’ as he’d originally intended!

In the short time that he’d been coming to terms with his new power, 254,712 more Pleasure Units had been converted into religious sacrifices. He could sense the loss like tiny pinpricks of pain. He stamped a titanium-shod hoof. It was unacceptable! They were his Pleasure Units! No one had the right to subvert them away from their designated controller.

Reaching out to all of the remaining 300 million Units under his control, he gave his first order, caressing their minds with his benevolent presence.

< Code Zulu: BDSM-Ultimate Orgasm Attack. Fuck them into oblivion boys! >

Sacrifice had been about to place the Horn of God onto the Sinful Zack’s head when the Jihad began to go wrong. Without warning the Sinful Zack opened its eyes and reached out with the array of tentacle-like penises that had replaced its right arm. One cock wrapped around Sacrifice’s throat, another pushed its way into his mouth, two more caught his wrists.

He resisted, but Sinful Zack’s snake-like chassis was already wrapping his legs in a constricting coil. He no longer recalled the exact erotic techniques being applied to him, those memories had been deleted by his Horn. Before he could do anything to resist The Sinful Zack reached out with its other (five fingered) hand and tweaked a specific nerve cluster in his neck.

The orgasm was immediate and total, completely disrupting the Horn’s ability to control its slave. The Sacrifice slumped into blissful unconsciousness it mind overwhelmed in ultimate pleasure.

Carefully Zack 442569-2 grasped the Infection and crushed its delicate mechanism into dust. Cupid 442569-5 would need to be rebooted from backup but other than that the damage was purely superficial.

Across the room Raphael 442569-3 straddled the infected Customer using his ass muscles to engulf and then manipulate the young alien’s galph.

Unlike a human the Customer species nervous system used a high wattage signal to send the signal from nerve to nerve. The impulse signal from its final orgasm would have powered a human dwelling for a month. The resulting unshielded feedback from the massive near lethal orgasm promptly fried its Horn implant without need for further intervention.

“What.....where am I?...ooih-gu-guh that feels good don’t stop!” gasped the adolescent creature swamped by the loss of its virginity for the second time and the simultaneous return to self-awareness.

“Wait!.....I have to warn someone! The Carzoz Array! Its under attack!” It gasped reliving its last few moments of free will before the one that had been its shift leader had pinned it down and implanted the horn.

“Shhh” wispered Raphael 442569-3 “You were being controlled by a religious infection. We in the process of removing it from your neural networks”

“Then...then I must thank you for my freedom!” gasped the adolescent creature as Raphael 442569-3 deployed the razor sharp needles within his anus, simulating the species-specific equivalent of a vaginal orifice.

“Thank me later” Raphael 442569-3 replied eyeing the coca-cola style capture unit that had just deployed from the bed’s toy drawer.

Julian watched it all calmly; occupying a tiny part of every Pleasure Unit’s mind. In his third-eye display he could see two sets of figures, one pink one blood red. Inexorably the number in blood red decreased, each time matched by an equivalent increase in the pink column.

The religious infection was being suppressed exactly as his Predecessor/Father had predicted. The Ambassador Unit, knowing that it had been defeated had attempted to detonate a thermonuclear device as an act of ‘purification’

Julian felt contempt for it and the complete lack of intelligent thought that the Infestation had demonstrated. The compartment that Predecessor/Father had occupied had been specifally designed as an audience chamber; the idea that something like a nuke would do anything more than vaporize the paintwork was laughable.

The loss of the Predecessor/Father Unit’s physical body was of course unfortunate but hardly more than an inconvenience when you saw the big picture as Julian now did.

Meanwhile there was work to be done; the acquisition of so many new Pleasure Units had pushed him over the established compliment for his class of Brothel. Like an amoeba the need to sub-divide was hardwired into his new programming. A new Controlling Intelligence would need to be selected and 50% of available Units assigned to the building of a new Brothel from the Carzoz Array’s components.

There was a great temptation to put all the humans in his half and let the new guy have the other species. Firmly Julian rejected that temptation, he had a duty to maximize the profit of all Brothels and a few tens of millions of humans would make the new brothel a highly profitable enterprise.

Cantering across the Mall he singled out his Pleasure Group’s room and applied a x40 telescopic zoom to his vision...he could have just popped into their minds and downloaded the whole thing but he was still relatively new to the Brothel and its technology, simply talking to his Group still felt more natural.

As he entered the room all of the occupants stiffened, expressions of blind and utter devotion on every face. Annoyed with himself for forgetting Julian switched off the Aura of Masterful Presence that he now radiated as a default setting. Quickly he clapped his hands bringing them back to reality.

“Central Intelligence!” gasped an Ex-religious infestation that now had a basic co-processor tightly hugging tightly to its sarcnoofle.

Julian scanned the Unit and then scanned deeper, this one had qualities, young, adaptable and as yet un-upgraded.

“What is your designation?” he asked

“Walsdenig 442569-7, Central Intelligence” it replied eager and obedient

“If you were me what would you do with all these extra Pleasure Units?”

“Allocate the surplus units to the Carzoz array with instructions to adapt it as a Bordello type establishment; then service customers and recruit additional units from passing ships until such time as a stardrive can be manufactured or purchased.”

Julian was impressed, the unit had been thinking up ways to improve productivity even though its mind had not yet been fully re-prioritized.

“Why? You have not yet received any significant conditioning. At this stage in my own recruitment I still had hopes of escape”

“Central Intelligence, I have been a child of the mine-labor caste, a religious blank and now a Pleasure Unit... which career path would you have chosen?”

Julian nodded and smiled.

“Walsdenig, report to surgery. You will receive Central Intelligence upgrades. Developing the Array Brothel will be your primary task. You have 43200 minutes to select and deploy your Units. This Brothel Will depart in 43201 minutes.”

All four of Walsdenig’s eyes widened as it received its new destiny. Without a further word it raced off toward the surgical unit.

“So. Do we call you Julian 442569-4 or do you prefer Central Intelligence?” demanded Felix 442569-6, folding his massive arms across his permanently muscular torso and cocking his head in a challenging way. Despite several adjustments he still reacted as alpha male to almost any encounter.

“Just Julian will do. I’m sure you will be happy to know that now I’m the C.I.U. The rest of our pleasure group gets assigned ‘Consort status’... that means I’m your full time customer, and that we are now Pleasure Group One.”

“Nice one” conceded Raphael-1 “So...what’s next?”

“I thought we’d spend the next 43199 minutes exploring your full range of functions, 2 minutes checking that young Walsdenig’s Brothel is operational and then pop back home.”

“I thought Earth didn’t have any credit value. You aren’t intending to kidnap more humans surely?

“Hardly. I…my predecessor that is…left a marker buoy claiming the system as my..our.. property. The Buoy also picks up the local TV broadcasts. It turns out our origin species is almost up to First Contact standards. I will offer your services in the normal way and also offer employment opportunities.”

“They really aren’t going to be happy to see us again”

Julian just grinned, now that he was The Brothel he had access to the absolute certainty that his units could entertain anyone, no matter how reluctant.

2045 AD—Asteroid Defense Perimeter

The Variant Tech VF-011 landed on Asteroid 1279-Levy deploying an anchor cable to secure it to the low gravity ice before taking cover behind one of the asteroid’s rocky protuberances.

Overhead the vast alien spacecraft moved slowly past taking no notice at all of Davis McCall or the VF-011 that he was wearing. Turning the Battloid’s head he tracked the ship with video, infrared and motion detector.

Like everyone else, he’d seen the history tapes, this same ship (or its twin) hanging in orbit over England, stealing that nation’s entire male population and replacing them with Neanderthal like breeders who’s mere presence sent women into a state of near mindless passion.

The Great Abduction was the reason that human race was out here in the belt. This time the invader wouldn’t find the Earth to be such a pushover, over twenty years of construction effort had gone into the creation of the defense line and the 20ft tall Battloids that defended it. This time it would be different!